


Narcissistic Personality Disord-burr

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Trauma, and of smoking, mentions of abuse, mentions of self harm, sorry about the Terrible Pun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8284018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Aaron Burr is eleven years old when he first notices losing time. He’s at home with no memory of the busride or the last few hours of school. He is sitting at the table with a completed math worksheet that he has no memory of doing and no understanding of. His pencil’s eraser has been chewed on.He sits there ponderous for a few moments, unable to shake the distinct feeling that something is wrong, and then his body stands up and he begins to panic. They end up falling over. Someone in his head cusses.(now with a semi-interactive tumblr component)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A trauma piece is a type of Emotional Part that exists to hold memories of trauma
> 
> more info here:  
> http://traumadissociation.com/alters
> 
> Please be aware that this fanfiction contains mentions of abuse, self-harm, and trauma. also a vague mention of smoking

Aaron Burr is eleven years old when he first notices losing time. He’s at home with no memory of the busride or the last few hours of school. He is sitting at the table with a completed math worksheet that he has no memory of doing and no understanding of. His pencil’s eraser has been chewed on.

He sits there ponderous for a few moments, unable to shake the distinct feeling that something is wrong, and then his body stands up and he begins to panic. They end up falling over. Someone in his head cusses.

\---

It’s a few years later. He’s fourteen. He and Leibniz have settled into a more-or-less comfortable rhythm of switching off for the classes they like. Leibniz has them taking Pre-Calculus. For God’s sake, Aaron is only a freshman. But between the two of them, they can pretty well handle the others. It’s exhausting sometimes, and there have been instances where one or both of them have slipped and then come back hours later to find bleeding lines on their forearms, or cigarette butts on their floor, or pornhub on their phone. It’s worrisome, but they are handling it.

They are handling it. Leibniz lives for math club; Aaron bides his time every day until his seventh hour US Government and Politics class, where he used to get shit for having the same name as the guy who killed Alexander Hamilton (it’s because of that damn musical that anyone even cares), until he slipped one day and that was the end of it. He doesn’t remember what happened. He’s heard people gossipping about it (nobody ever notices him because of how quiet he tends to be) and he’s gathered that whoever it was quoted the musical _somehow_ (no, he has no idea how they even knew what to say, but he has suspicions that they’ve been covertly keeping the body up late to immerse themself in fandom; it would explain some of the suggested videos on youtube that have nothing to do with either his or Leibniz’s tastes, and those days where both he and Leibniz feel exhausted for no obvious reason).

He finally gets to meet this mystery nerd on a foggy day in April. Someone starts singing the annoying Aaron Burr Sir song while he’s walking to the buses, and the mystery headmate cuts in right after the line about “fools who talk a ton end up dead” or something-- Aaron doesn’t give a shit what the real lyric is.

He watches through his eyes in horror as the person turns his body around and throws down.  
“YO! I’m John Laurens in the place to be! A’ two pints of Sam Adams but I’m workin’ on three!” He wants to throttle this asshole. How dare they wink with Aaron’s eyes. He doesn’t get angry very easily, but this is the last straw. This headmate has been trying his patience for far too long.

He turns on his heel and flees to his bus. He is never going to live that down.

\---

“What the hell were you _thinking!?_ ”He writes in his notebook on the bus.  
“dude how do you make your handwriting go so perfectly slanty like that i cant write in italics no fair”  
“Who are you.”  
“well..................... IM JOHN LAURENS IN THE PLACE TO BE”  
“Stop.”  
“long time no see burr. i gotta say this is kinda surreal. the last thing i remember before existing here is getting shot lmao”  
“I’m sorry to hear that. However, you need to calm down. Erratic behavior won’t work out well for us in the long run.”

Unsurprisingly, John completely disregards Aaron’s advice, arguing that everyone will chalk it up to them being a freshman.

\---

Aaron is seventeen, pulling an all-nighter to study for his AP Biology unit test the next day(Laurens made them take Biology on the mistaken assumption that it would be at least somewhat about turtles) when something happens.

His mind floods with panic. And then the words start flowing. Aaron doesn’t recognise them, but John does.  
“Alexander?” says John out loud. The words stutter, and then grind to a halt.  
_J-John?_  says a tentative voice into headspace. And Aaron is frozen.

Memories first started coming back when Lafayette arrived (he came in right when it was time for Aaron to choose a language and demanded that they take French), and it was a hard night when he remembered the duel (Leibniz had to front all day and bombed a United States History quiz), but it never occurred to him that...  
_Alexander, is that you?_  he says. Pleasantly surprised, he hopes he sounds. He feels hesitation from the person with them and broadcasts one of his memories, hoping for an identifying reaction. He remembers Alexander, and the earnest look in his eyes when he burst into Burr’s office in the middle of the night and compelled him to defend the new constitution. He remembers thinking in the very back of his mind that he might enjoy kissing him.

There’s no response for a very long time, but the discomfort introduced by the newbie remains with Burr and Leibniz and Laurens and Lafayette the whole day. They can feel the new person, hiding out in the back of headspace, saying nothing.

Burr isn't prepared for what happens when he fronts alone on the bus before school, so it overwhelms him. The new person (he's almost certain it's Alexander now) dumps a memory into headspace, of the sun shining in his eyes and the panic swelling in his chest. Burr is immersed in someone else's memory of the duel and of the feeling of a gun in hand and knowing he was throwing it all away.

He feels a distinct, merciless pain in his chest, and he doesn't know if it's the memory of a bullet or his own distress.

 _...Alexander?_ The extra feelings disappear and the small presence in the back of his mind is gone. Burr blinks and doesn't quite comprehend the fact he's crying.

They fail the Biology test and then join debate club on impulse, thinking that maybe Alexander will come back for an opportunity to argue. It works a little bit. They feel him back there again, but he doesn't react to anything, and he disappears again when the club meeting is over. By this time they've figured out something is wrong, but they don't have time to worry about it. Second semester finals are coming up, and junior year is really important. Also Aaron wants to start an anarchist revolution and spends a lot of time drafting manifestos.

He tabs over to the google document with his ideas after he's finished his homework, and notes that Alexander is back, and projecting a few tangled emotions-- most notably distress, but also mild interest and surprise. Aaron doesn't want to spook him, so he doesn't say anything to him this time. He just scrolls through what he has so far on anarchy and how great it is, reading it over.

He finds his finger tapping the down arrow key at a pace that scrolls a bit too fast for him to keep up with, and pulls back a little bit from front to let Alexander read.

Upon reaching the end of the document, his fingers spread over the keyboard, and then wiggle experimentally as Aaron looks on. Alexander seems to instinctually know that he'll be able to use the body's general skills if he doesn't think too much about it, because he doesn't even try to hunt and peck any of it; he just decides on words and expects them to be translated into motions over the keyboard.

Aaron looks at the screen, where Alexander has typed out,  
"i have many memories that i do not recognise and they seem to belong to you but they are all rather horrible and i am uncertain of how to proceed." He steels himself for some Grade A Angst, hits enter, and types,  
"What sort of memories?" Alexander takes note of the shift key and then types back,  
"Distressing memories. Being pushed down stairs and shouted at. An ache in your arm as you huddle on a racecar bed and then someone comes in and begins to verbally abuse me, er, you." Aaron pauses. He knew that because of his system it was almost certain there was some sort of trauma in his past, but he hadn't thought much on it. Now that he's uncovered his system's trauma piece, though, he's horrified, because it's Alexander.


	2. Chapter 2

Alexander doesn’t talk very much. It’s jarring. Every time Burr hears something about the economy or even Hamilton’s financial plan, there’s a distinct lack of response from him, and Burr doesn’t like it. It feels  _ wrong. _

 

John tries to coax him into talking. It doesn’t work. They all suppose it’d be difficult, existing only to hold traumatic memories from someone else, so they (John, Aaron, Leibniz, Lafayette) don’t push him after the first few failed attempts.

 

And life goes on.

 

\---

 

Three months or so pass. Leibniz has aced their AP Statistics final (as well as the AP test), Lafayette got a passing grade on their French 4 Honors final (he’s still bitter about getting an 85 instead of a 95 or something), John and Aaron have passed Bio together, and Aaron has done reasonably well on the rest on his own. 

 

It is summertime. Aaron is walking home from his job at a library.

 

He makes it home and wakes up the next morning with only a headache, a stiff neck, and the vague sense that something is wrong. (It has been three months since Alexander last spoke).

 

Aaron drags himself out of bed, glad for Saturdays, and brushes his teeth in a daze, trying to figure out what the weird feeling is all about. His thoughts don’t turn to Alexander even once. He shrugs at himself in the mirror, rinses his mouth and toothbrush, and greets Lafayette, who is just beginning to wake up. Lafayette takes a moment to select the rudest French word he has relearned so far and then vehemently thinks it in Aaron’s direction. Aaron laughs.

 

Halfway through the day they are all enjoying applejuice when Alexander speaks up (or would that be ‘thinks’ up?).

“I think something happened last night.” Burr freezes in the middle of reaching for the remote. It is Lafayette who responds first.

“Ah, and zis would explain ze feeling of, how you say, unsettledness?” Burr can’t help cracking up every time he hears the ridiculous ‘French’ accent that Lafayette insists on thinking in.

“Yeah, um. Here.” Alexander does that thing again, the thing where he broadcasts a memory over the whole mind, and Aaron stops short mid-giggle.

 

A humid night with cicadas chirping. They are walking past an alley and notice something in the corner of their eye that makes them stop. Leibniz feels nervous. Lafayette feels worried. Aaron feels sick. 

 

Alex feels all of it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


For the sake of my dear readers and their delicate sensibilities, we will not delve into details regarding the memory which Alexander shows them. All I will write on the subject is this: I would not want to be in their shoes on that night.

 

There’s a long silence in the headspace. Then Aaron begins having an idea. He doesn’t know what his idea is, only that it is just starting to exist. He doesn’t tell anyone else about it, as they all awkwardly reach out with their thoughts and try to comfort Alexander. Alexander falters and then goes silent, almost withdrawing and then changing his mind.

 

He hangs out in the middle area of headspace for the next few hours while the rest of them do other things, and occasionally comes forward to observe. He likes the feeling of the cold bathroom tiles under their feet when they step out of the shower. He decides his favorite colour is green.

 

None of them remark on it, but he’s heartbreakingly anxious and seems to be trying to make himself seem small, like he’s afraid to take up any space, like with every sound he makes them flinch at he’s apologising for existing.

 

Alexander wants more memories. He also wants to read a book, maybe two (or three, or five), but he is afraid to ask. Which is why he is loitering in the rough middle of headspace after three months of silence. He wants memories about things that don’t matter. He wants memories that don’t feel like death.

 

He wants death that doesn’t feel like a memory or a fantasy. He wants death that feels real. He wants to feel real.

 

He feels more real the closer he is to front. Which is why he is slowly making his way forwards without even consciously realising it. Leibniz notices, and discreetly withdraws to make room. Alexander notices the device in their hands and decides that he would like to play this ‘temple run’ thing. It seems sufficiently pointless to distract him.

 

He doesn’t ask if he can try. He wants to play, but asking isn’t worth the stress. As minutes pass, though, he finds himself even more restless, and finally, John thinks a question at him.

“How’s it hangin’, Alex?”

 

He almost seems to shrink-- he’s been noticed. He does the mental equivalent of a shrug. John goes, “Cool, cool. Hey, Laf really sucks at this game, doesn’t he.” Alex pauses, and turns his attention towards Lafayette, gauging his reaction to John’s words. Only when there’s no response for a few seconds does he let himself relax a little bit and shrug mentally again.

“I’d probably be worse.” John laughs, and then nudges Lafayette out of front.

“Laurens, you are ze worst.” Aaron does his best to hide the mirth that overcomes him every time Laf says anything.

“Give Alex a turn, c’mon, man.” Lafayette makes a show of deliberating for a second or two, and then acquiesces.

“Zere is always ze chance zat I can kick your butt later, I suppose.”

 

Alex is nervous. John notices.

“I can turn on the tutorial mode for you, if you want.” Alex fidgets mentally, then blurts out an affirmative. He watches almost perplexed as John easily navigates through the game and then taps a thing, which turns it green. Then John leaves front, and Alexander realises that it’s his turn.

 

Well, okay. It’ll be fine? Probably? His mild distress is apparent to the others, but in order to not risk making it worse, they do not mention it.

 

Alexander assumes front like a bunny edging out around the corner of a house after being chased behind it.

 

Temple Run turns out to be strangely transfixing, despite Alexander’s supreme lack of skill. He spends an hour playing before he notices how much time has passed and then flinches himself out of front, like a huge fucking dork or something. Lafayette chuckles out a ‘hon hon hon’ which sends Aaron into uncontrollable giggles, and in the ensuing chaos, Alexander hides.

  
Mission accomplished; memories acquired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please give me comments; most of my motivation stems from feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

Aaron realises something. He realises it when reading through the DSM-V diagnostic criteria for Narcissistic Personality Disorder. It’s an awkward realisation. It doesn’t fit well with Aaron’s existing ideas about his identity. He’d rather ignore it than anything else, but... it isn’t the sort of realisation a person can just ignore. Especially not one so determined to be Self Aware™.

 

His system is flat, nobody saying anything. Put that in the evidence category. Evidence for what? Aaron isn’t sure yet. It’s evidence.

 

He googles ‘factitious DID,’ clicks the already-purple search result, for the webpage on factitious or malingered DID, which he read through back when he first tried to find a label for what he thought he was experiencing, and scrolls all the way to the bottom. He remembers a paragraph about imitative DID, and wants to be sure of something.

 

“Imitative DID occurs when an individual without DID genuinely believes themself to have the disorder, and is most common in individuals with a Cluster B personality disorder.”

 

He googles ‘cluster b personality disorders’ and clicks on a webpage that looks like it’ll have a list. Narcissistic Personality Disorder is, indeed, on the list.

 

_ Hello? _

 

he says into his mind. And nothing.

 

Hmm. Interesting.

 

Perhaps that was inevitable, given the circumstances.

 

Aaron Burr wonders exactly how much of his life this has affected. He googles, ‘how to cope with narcissism,’ which just gives him a bunch of results like ‘8 signs you might be dating a narcissist’ ‘how to recognise narcissistic abuse’ ‘what makes narcissists tick?’ and ‘one question that usually identifies a narcissist.’ He heaves a sigh, and scrolls down a bit. One link looks vaguely promising: ‘inside the mind of a narcissist: no empathy? no problem!’

 

He clicks it, already not expecting very much. 

 

“The narcissist is a perplexing creature,” the article says, and Aaron has already given up, “and even more perplexing is the blah blah blah words blah.” It doesn’t actually say that, but that’s what Aaron files it under in his mind, ‘things that use a lot of words without saying anything that matters.’ He scans the article, finding a few gems, such as ‘the narcissist is a blank slate, with no consistent identity’ ‘the narcissist wakes up every morning thinking about what he will do to get attention that day’ ‘there is no known cure for the narcissist; he will always be what he is now’ and ‘in the end, we must conclude that the narcissist is more pathetic than dangerous, not a worthy threat as long as we know what to look out for.’ 

 

Aaron feels slightly offended at that last one. He is definitely a worthy threat. He could totally take advantage of someone if he felt like it. He doesn’t feel like it, but he definitely could if he wanted to.

 

So how to explain his system? Easy. He wanted a secret to feel special about. He wanted the possibility of a cure, too; integration always presented a way out, a way to  _ stop _ being the broken feeling he always has. 

 

He knows integration is more complicated than that. He knows he’s being illogical. So he decides to stop.

 

Except his entire life so far has balanced on the assumption that he would eventually be the Very Best Person in the world, and if he’s a narcissist he can’t exactly... it doesn’t fit with his self-image. It doesn’t fit.

 

It doesn’t feel like who he is, because it doesn’t feel like something the Future Very Best Person would be. Which, he recognises, is an inherently narcissistic statement.

 

Fuck.

 

Aaron laughs out loud.

 

He googles ‘narcissistic personality disorder facebook.’ He wants to hear something from people with NPD, not people who have to deal with people with NPD. The results are all ‘is facebook really a playground for narcissists?’ ‘Narcissistic Personality Disorder Survivors: this is a group for people who have suffered at the hands of blah blah blah’ ‘NPD Survivors: a group for survivors to talk about blah blah blah’ ‘how to spot a narcissist on facebook’ ‘how narcissism and social media go hand in hand blah blah’

 

That sort of thing.

 

He gives up on facebook. Evidently, it’s not a playground on which he is welcome, to steal a phrase from one of the search results.

 

He googles ‘npd reddit.’ There’s RaisedByNarcissists, which he doesn’t even click on, a few more similar results, and finally just /r/NPD. He clicks that one.

 

Everything there is a bit too ruthless for his tastes, and he’s honestly always hated the format of reddit. At least it’s a place with real people who actually have NPD and not just normal people complaining their asses off. That gives him some hope.

 

Finally, hating himself, he googles “narcissism tumblr,’ which eventually leads him to the actuallynarcissistic tag. It’s full of #relatable content, which makes him wonder what’s up with the stigma against tumblr, anyway.

 

He makes a tumblr. The url is noempathynoproblem, after that one useless article. He spends about three seconds fucking with the theme before he decides it’s beneath him, and goes back to the actuallynarcissistic tag to reblog some posts before he gets bored with that.

 

It’s whatever. He makes one last attempt to talk at his system, which is met with silence. Whatever.

  
He doesn’t like being wrong about things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha. yeah. shrugs. dont look at me my dudes.


End file.
